


An Excerpt from Victor Frankenstein's Journal

by lancelotdulac



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diary/Journal, Gay, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Victor is less of an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23930134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lancelotdulac/pseuds/lancelotdulac
Summary: AU where Victor doesn't abandon the monster right away and things are good for a while. Victor is hopeless for Henry. Told in a series of journal entries during his time at Ingolstadt and home.
Relationships: Elizabeth Lavenza/Justine Moritz (implied/mentioned), Henry Clerval/Victor Frankenstein
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	An Excerpt from Victor Frankenstein's Journal

**Author's Note:**

> I started this right after reading the book and some subsequent fanfics, which was months ago. Only finished and edited it this week--any similarities to other fanfics are completely accidental, as I don't remember if I borrowed from anything. I never intended to publish this but I guess quarantine inspired me to dust off old projects.
> 
> Adam is the creature's name--I can't remember where I got this from, but someone told me it was from a spinoff work. If anyone remembers lmk!

Nov 7th

On the train home from Ingolstadt. I’ve left Adam in the laboratory. He should be all right, as most of what he does is stare blankly at the walls and shuffle around and grunt. There’s food and water, and I won’t be gone for more than a few days. I worry about him, but I  had to return home. My family hasn’t seen me in months, and Elizabeth begged me to come for her birthday. I can’t refuse her anything, and it will be nice to see their faces. University is terribly lonely, even with Adam.

This train stinks of chewing tobacco. Head is aching. Will write later.

Nov 9th

Returning after so long away has been difficult. Elizabeth is lovely as ever-- I was gladdest to see her, and she was the first to greet me when I stepped out onto the station platform. William was being a turd, as usual. Father is Father.

I know his demeanor lately is all to do with him missing Mother. While the rest of us mourn in our own ways, he has disappeared into himself entirely. Dinner was awkward, with Elizabeth trying her best to prompt conversation and Father sitting like a wooden man. William mostly ignores everyone. Turd. I suppose this is why I put off returning for so long. Well, this and Adam.

A lovely surprise yesterday evening--Henry Clerval stopped by to say hello. His face was a welcome sight for us all, and even Father stirred a bit to greet him and make conversation.

In three months he’s grown even  more , he’s a good five inches taller than me now. He laughed when I said I had to crane my neck to look up at him, and pulled me into a hug. I think he’s been taking exercise. His arms felt stronger.

There’s something about the way his too-long hair has started to curl at the back of his neck-- distracting. We’ve been friends for so long, but it was like I was seeing him with fresh eyes today.

~~ Well. I suppose I’ve always felt like this, a bit ~~

Doesn’t matter. Foolishness.

Feels good to be home, but already in the two-and-a-half days here I’ve begun itching to return to my laboratory. Sometimes the noise and all the smells and people are distracting. Sometimes I wish for the mute solace of Adam’s company

But, Henry

Elizabeth is calling. I think dinner is on.

Nov 11th

Back at Ingolstadt since yesterday night. Forgot how much colder it is here. Adam was glad to see me. Glad I wasn’t gone for too long, or he might’ve been worse--he has a beastly temper sometimes when he doesn’t get his way.

Feels colorless and gray again. Schoolwork is irritating in the way it piles, but I manage. I always do. Though lately putting it off has become more of a chore than actually doing it.

Biology is loathsome. Might go for a walk in the graveyard later--strangely peaceful there. Better even than my lab.

Adam is here, can’t put him off for long.

Nov 16th

Getting somewhere, finally, with my project. I’m afraid how it will change Adam’s temperament. I’m sure it will, and I don’t know if he’ll be better for it.

Nov 20th

Project is working! Adam began ‘Paradise Lost,’ a bit advanced for a beginner, but in line with my hypothesis, the disjointed parts of his brain will come together and it’ll be more recall and recognition than completely new learning. Thus, he’ll progress faster--that’s what I’ve observed with fine motor movements, and am hoping that it’ll be the same with speech and literacy. More detailed account in the project journal, but thought I’d put it here. Gave me comfort, and better, that old spark of mania. I’d missed the feeling.

Dec 13th

Elizabeth has written. She wants to know if I’ll come home for Christmas. With Adam, I don’t want to leave--Ingolstadt is a pleasurable hell--Go and come back early? I will need a break after exams, maybe a few days will do me good? But the trouble it takes to go out there and back, and I hate to leave Adam, he gets so morose. Can’t bring Adam with (obviously). But to see Elizabeth, even William...

Though I hate the holidays because father--

Adam needs me, must go

Dec 17th

Henry has written. He wants to know if I’ll be home for Christmas--says he can’t wait to see me. Maybe a week at home would be fine. I can explain to Adam. I am sure he understands me now when I speak, I see his eyes following the conversation as if it was sketched on the air.

Henry, Henry--I feel my stomach drop when I think of his face, the curl of his hair, the brush of stubble on my cheek when he bends to hug me. I am a hopeless wretch. (Am I--?)

Unthinkable! No.

Well, might as well start packing now that I’ve made up my mind. A train ticket is easily bought, despite the busyness of the season, I’m sure father will pay. And I do want to see Lizzie and Will.

~~ My feelings ~~

~~ Henry ~~

Pointless to write when I know nothing will come of it.

Dec 20th

Exams over, on the train home. I wrote to tell them I was coming--hope the letter arrived before I did. Maybe not, and it’ll be a surprise.

My thoughts stray to Adam, alone in the laboratory. A poorer wretch than I, but in time, I hope...

And what if I fail?

Unthinkable. No.

Dec 24th

Christmas Eve merry indeed! Laughing and chocolates and candlelight. Warmth I didn’t know how much I’d missed.

When I first arrived, Elizabeth exclaimed over my thinness, my pallor, the length of my hair. It’s true I’ve grown unkempt during my time at Ingolstadt. William danced around and called me names until I paid attention to him. Father smiled. That was something.

Henry stopped by briefly. Gave me a package that feels like a bottle of wine--”For your father,” he said, “He’s been a gracious host, and I’ve made frequent use of your old room when I stay here.” Father invited him in, but Henry declined, saying he was just stopping by before heading to his sister’s. Our place is near to hers, but it was still out of his way. Father was touched and told him so. He invited Henry to dinner tomorrow. Henry said yes.

Before he left, Henry touched me on the shoulder, gave me an appraising up-and-down. I knew he was taking in my appearance, and for the first time I burned under his gaze, overly aware of my shaggy hair, my darkened undereyes. “University treating you well?” He asked.

“Well enough.” I shrugged away from the question. “How is Catherine?”   
“My sister’s doing well. I can catch you up tomorrow--I look forward to speaking with you in depth.” He smiled.

In depth _. _ Sometimes I wonder if he  ~~ returns my affections ~~ there are no affections to speak of!!! Must have drunk too much wine tonight.

I am lying in my bed and cannot help remembering that he said he has spent the night here. The thought fills me with shivers, I cannot deny it. I wonder if he laid his head on this same pillow, what he dreamed of.

I will admit it. I may be a little infatuated with Henry Clerval.

Enough for now, my hand aches from writing and my eyes grow heavy. To bed, to bed.

Dec 25th

Glowing, glowing, warm and buzzy.

A joyful morning, William tore through presents and exclaimed in delight at the pocket watch. Less delighted at my book, until he realized it was a collection of paintings. He hugged me fiercely. I really do love him, even though his gift to me was a pinecone with a cheeky note attached. He  still remembers that stupid afternoon near five years ago now and refuses to let the joke die.

Elizabeth loved the book of poems, and kissed me on both cheeks as a thank-you. I saw her engaging with Justine throughout the morning, whispering, brushing the corner of her sleeve with affection. They practically glow around each other. I am not surprised that they are so close--Elizabeth has always admired the fairer sex. I hope Justine is good to her, if they are indeed courting.

Father seemed genial. He gave me another notebook (I do go through them lightning-quick). He was pleased with the cuff-links, I think. That is, he smiled and nodded and said “very nice.” I did not mind.

Mass was abhorrent, but the carriage ride home more than made up for it. Elizabeth had asked Jaques to pick up a bottle of cider on his way, and it was still warm when we stepped into the carriage. It was a merry ride, Elizabeth running through carols with William and teaching him all the dirty verses.

Dinner was delicious--Henry joined us (!) He was lovely. There is no other word for it. He smiled and laughed and completely enraptured us--me. He is dazzling. I am still hopeless, but then again, maybe not--his gift was an old book of alchemy, of no practical use, but he said he thought of me when he saw it.

He has cut his hair, and it no longer curls so around the back of his neck. The skin where it used to rest is just a fraction of a shade lighter. I wish I hadn’t noticed halfway through dinner, because it distracted me so much that I poured gravy in my water glass. I laughed it off but was heartily embarrassed to have been so clumsy in front of him. I feel like an overawkward, overeager child around him sometimes.

We were talking and chatting so late into the night that William’s eyes started to droop, though he fought valiantly to stay awake. Father noticed, and checked the time, and exclaimed. It was half past two.

We were embarrassed to have kept Henry so long, but he brushed us off, saying he’d had the loveliest time of his life here. We weren’t keeping him from anything--his sister celebrates Christmas with her husband, and of course, his parents passed years ago.

(I wonder if we are a surrogate family to him, as we are to Elizabeth? It must be different, for Elizabeth has only ever truly known us. She is a true sibling as much as William is. Henry is my dearest friend, and always welcome in our home, but brother? Never.)

Father exclaimed it was too late to walk the roads alone, and for a moment, my horrid, treacherous heart leapt, hoping against hope that Henry would stay the night, but instead Father insisted Jaques would take him.

We all bid him a flurry of goodbyes at the door, and I lingered to show him out. We walked--

I am abnormally tired. Will finish tomorrow morning, it is past 3 already.

Dec 26th

\--down the path together. The snow dusted his hair. He looked beautiful. Feels foolish to admit this in the light of day, but I will tell it as I felt it last night.

He was quiet, and his eyes were thoughtful. We walked in comfortable silence across the grounds. When we got to the carriage, he turned and smiled at me with such open friendliness that my chest ached for the secret feelings locked there.

“I hope you stay for the whole of your break,” he said plaintively. (My heart leapt, I will admit.)

“I have a project that I really should get back to,” I said, but he looked so downtrodden, I added, “But all that can wait another week.”

He smiled again, and I thought I saw a flash of something else (unless I imagined it?? Perhaps I imagined this whole scene, or dreamed it, except I can still feel it vibrating around my bones). He leaned in to hug me, and as he pulled away, I felt  distinctively his lips brush against my cheek. “Promise I’ll see you tomorrow?” He whispered.

I was as mute as Adam! I nodded, my eyes surely the size of dinner plates. He laughed as the carriage door swung shut. “I’ll be by at noon--meet me at the servant’s door. You needn’t tell your father.”

He will be here within the hour! I am frantic.

My thoughts turn to Adam, Ingolstadt, even now, but only for a moment, because most of my thinking is dominated by  _ Henry, Henry, Henry . _ More updates to come.

LATER: I am in heaven, or at least a clever imitation; hell is more likely, considering. But what do I care for hell?

I brought a bottle of wine and my foolish hope. Henry brought two horses and his charming self. We rode out to a clearing in the middle of the woods, where a broken-down cottage lies hidden between trees. He said it was partially burnt many years ago, and no one had bothered to rebuild it since. He’d stumbled upon it while hunting one day, and thought I would like to see it. I did, and told him so.

We spent a good part of the afternoon clearing the rubble from the main room, a “sitting room” of sorts, and blowing away the worst of the dust and the cobwebs. We were both cheerful and breathless when we were done, and I was happy to settle down on the blanket he’d brought and open the bottle of wine.

We sat in companionable silence for a while, trading swigs (I forgot cups). And then he started to tell me a bit about the months here since I’d been gone.

“Elizabeth is always darling, of course, and William was as wild as ever--worse, I think, without you there to check him. I found myself stopping by more and more, and they were so gracious and accommodating, though I know my presence probably wore on them--”

I assured him that the house was much in need of cheer and company since mother’s passing.

He looked comforted at that. “That’s kind of you to say. But as I was there so frequently, I began to ask myself,” he hesitated, “ask myself what I was looking for there, and why I still felt so...incomplete. And that’s when I realized I’d been missing--you.” I started to speak but he put a hand up. “Of course, you’ve always been one of--no, my dearest friend. But this was different. I missed you--well, as a man misses a woman.” He blushed deeply. “I didn’t mean to say... obviously, you’re a man. But I realized the depth of my feelings for you. To be your friend has been a gift, the greatest thing I could have asked for. I was unsure at first if I should say anything, but I realized I had to tell you or I’d be tortured by it forever. I thought--another man might find it unnatural, or queer, but you--something told me, you would understand,” and he looked up at me with such feeling in his eyes that I felt as though my heart must be on fire.

My jaw was approximately on the floor for the entirety of this speech, but at this last, I roused enough to respond. “My dear Henry, I never thought--I had hoped, but never--that is to say, I, I feel, what I feel is very, well, similarly, I wondered--” and I was fumbling my words so horribly that I knew I would make it worse if I went on, so instead, I took his hand from the floor where it rested and pressed it gently to my mouth.

I don’t know what I was thinking by doing this, but Henry blushed even deeper, and for a moment I thought he would snatch his hand away. Instead, he bent his head and smiled at the ground. “My dear Victor,” he said, so affectionately.

I wanted... 

At that moment, I wanted a host of impossible things.

We rode back home, in high spirits, both of us a little shy, absorbed in our own minds. He bid me goodbye at the gate, and perhaps he would have said something more, but Elizabeth ran into us before he could.

When he’d left, Elizabeth asked me what I’d been doing out with him, but I just shrugged--I’ll tell her later--and rushed to write it all down here while it was still fresh in my mind.

I wish I could stay here forever, but Ingolstadt nags at me.

Dec 27th

No word from Henry. Should I send a note? No, leave it to him.

Dec 28th

This is unbearable. I’ve been pacing the halls, and Elizabeth looks at me curiously but does not ask. I will send him a note.

LATER: No, I cannot. I will wait for him.

LATER: Here is the note I sent: “Dear Henry, thinking of you and of the cottage. Will I hear from you again? Yours, Victor.”

Dec 29th

I must return to Ingolstadt. I should not have stayed away this long. Adam cannot be without me--my project will fail--I will book the next train home.

LATER: Henry wrote back. “Soon, dear friend. Catherine is ill and I have called for the doctor, but I still fear to leave her. Tomorrow at the latest I will send news. Missing the cottage. Yours always.”

I am hopeless. I will stay for tomorrow.

Dec 30th

Henry sent a note telling me to meet him “in our spot” as soon as I could. I saddled my horse hastily and told everyone I’d be back in a few hours.

He met me there in the sitting room, his cheeks pink with cold and his eyes bright. Upon seeing him, I melted in relief and embraced him tightly. He returned the embrace with fervid strength, and when we broke apart, he didn’t release me right away.

“I’m so sorry for leaving it this long,” he said breathlessly. “Catherine, and I didn’t know what to say--”

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” I said over and over, but he looked so distressed. “Relax, Henry, everything is all right. I’m here.”

His thumb was running over my shoulder most distractingly. “Your hair is getting so long,” he murmured, and twined a strand between his fingers.

I held my breath as he continued to worry the strand of hair, and then, slowly, his hand made its way to the back of my neck. He cupped it gently, not pulling, just touching, with a hand as cold and light as a snowflake. Surprisingly, I leaned in first.

He kissed me--reader, he kissed me, Henry Clerval  kissed me \--slowly at first, and then more passionately. Despite the cold of the day, I was warm everywhere from the pit of my stomach to the ends of my fingers.

It was fierce and sweet at once. He smiled at the ground when he pulled back, maybe a little embarrassed at his own forwardness. I wish we could have stayed forever.

Dec 31st

Henry over again tonight for dinner. Father and Elizabeth fussed and asked after Catherine and he reassured them. Every time our eyes found each other, he gave me a small smile.

When dinner was over, I walked him to the door. When we stepped out into the dark, I took hold of his arm.

“Henry,” I said, and hesitated.

His hand came up to my cheek and he leaned in and kissed me, no words, just that kiss, like he’d been waiting to do it all night. He did something lovely with his tongue, and all that was enough to put me in an absolute  state _ \-- _

Anyway. When we broke apart, I was a little dizzy. I pressed up to him, our foreheads touching, arms around one another, lips just an inch apart. We stayed like that, just breathing, and I could feel his heart beating and the warmth from his skin.

“Stay the night,” I whispered, and the look in his eyes was almost painful.

“When?” He whispered back. I took his hand again, kissed the inside of his wrist, his palm. The tips of his fingers.

“Tonight,” I said in between. “I’ll go back in, you can come by my window. I’ll let you in.”

He laughed, breathless. I made him breathless-- me, making Henry Clerval breathless--and I was so afraid he’d say no, but he took my face in his hands and said “Don’t make me wait.” He kissed me thoroughly, and then he was gone, slipping through the woods behind our house.

I hurried back in, then made my excuses, saying I had a headache, and raced to my bedroom. I threw open the curtains, and sure enough, there was Henry, pink-cheeked and laughing at my eagerness. I unlatched the window, fingers fumbling, and he climbed in as quietly as he could. We collapsed into each other’s arms as though it had been months instead of minutes. I closed the window; it was getting cold, and then I was facing him, and touching him, he was here, he was real, Henry Clerval in my room, shedding his coat and boots, the chill of winter air still hanging around him like a second layer of skin. He touched me, and his hands were so cold I had to shiver, and then he laughed again and said he’d warm up quick enough if I’d just stay still.

I sat on the bed and he followed, carefully undoing his waistcoat, and when he came to me I reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. My fingers were trembling just slightly. He caught them and looked me in the eye and said, “We needn’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

I said, “I want to.”

Then many things happened. All of them good. I am tired now and he is asleep next to me so I will finish this tomorrow.

Jan 1st

His skin under his clothing is just a shade or two lighter. Every inch of him is freckled ever so lightly. The tops of his shoulders and the insides of his thighs. I like the way he says my name. I like the way he breathes out and tips his head back when I do something he likes. I like the way he tugs my hair gently. I like the taste of him and the feeling of his warm skin under my hands. I like how gentle he is with me. He has nice hands. Calloused palms and broad fingers. They feel good touching me. Very very good.

It’s the morning--I woke early--and he is still asleep next to me. I slept only a little, but that is no different than usual. I feel plenty rested, and when I look at him now, with his lips open slightly and the sun coming through the curtains to light on his face--

LATER: Henry woke up and I put this journal away. We were quiet, not wanting to wake anyone else. I helped him dress, which turned into something rather less constructive than dressing, and then we had to start over dressing again. He has very nice broad shoulders.

He left the way he came, out the window. I stayed in bed a while longer before I realized with some horror--his footprints! It snowed last night, and they were clearly visible, leading away from my window. I panicked for a moment and then jumped out the window, still in my bedclothes (!) and ran a few meters into the forest. I grabbed a pine branch and dragged it behind me to wipe out my footprints and his. When I got to the window I tossed the branch aside, clambered back in, and shut the window just as Justine knocked on the door. I wrapped myself in a robe and answered, saying I needed just a couple minutes more. Too close of a call! I’ll be careful next time.

Jan 5th

Haven’t written here in days. Haven’t seen Henry in days, until tonight, when he came over again.

I have stayed at home too long. Adam will not like it. I must return to Ingolstadt soon, I know I do, but I wanted to see Henry one last time.

He came in through the window around midnight. I cannot describe the happiness that his visits have given me--I didn’t even realize how desolate and lonely I was before this. It will make leaving a thousand times harder, now that I know what I am giving up.

In my bed, after (!), he and I lay quietly. My fingers traced his arms, his chest, his lips. His eyes met mine steadily all the way through.

Not for the first time, I was glad for the solitude of my room. We were quiet enough, but when he bites the side of my neck the way he does, when his mouth sinks below my hips--I have to restrain from making all manner of noise.

He fits perfectly against me. His hips between my legs--sin or not, I’ve never felt anything more right.

I love him. The taste of him, the sound of his voice when he says my name, quiet and fervent, like a prayer. I love every inch of skin, and I’ve seen all of it.

I love when he lifts me into bed and undresses me, fierce and gentle at once. I love his mouth, on every part of me. I love I love I love.

Sometimes I think I’ve met my destiny, and Henry Clerval is it.

Foolish thought. All this is foolishness. I am a fool. If my destiny is to be tied to any person, it is sure to be Adam.

Adam! Even thinking about how long I have been gone makes me shudder.

Henry is here, sleeping. I love his skin in the moonlight, I love the softness of his hair, I love the warmth of his body filling my bed.

I have to leave tomorrow, while the taste of him still lingers on my lips. If I delay any longer, I won’t leave at all.

Jan 7th

On the train back to Ingolstadt. Henry’s face in the morning almost crumbled my resolve. “You’re leaving so soon?” He looked crestfallen. I hate myself for leaving, but I would have hated myself for staying even more. I touched his face. “I’ll try to come home when next I can. I don’t want to go, I just... I must.”

He nodded, though I could tell he didn’t want to. “I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Thinking about it makes my chest ache. I had a terrible feeling, leaving him. Like I might never see him again

Of  course I will see him again. I am getting worked up over nothing. Everything will be fine.

Jan 9th

It was worse than I thought it’d be. Adam had destroyed almost the entire laboratory while I was gone. He was angry to see me; he threw a beaker when I first entered. I  think he missed on purpose.

I had to rush to him, console him, tell him I was sorry, I wouldn’t leave for so long again. He mostly grunted in response, but I think he was mollified.

It took the whole evening to clean up the laboratory and pacify Adam. Once he’d fallen asleep, I sat with my head in my hands. I wanted to cry, but tears wouldn’t come. Numb and dry, I wondered if I’d have to spend the rest of my life chained to this monster. The thought fills me with despair. Will he ever be ready? Will I ever be able to introduce him to the world?? What happens if he never

No. Unthinkable!

I’ve fallen into something of a despair. I miss home. I miss Henry. Ingolstadt is horrible and damp and stuffy. Even with Adam, I am lonely.

Feb 1st

No developments of importance. Two letters from Henry have arrived. I have only responded to one. Classes started and I was swamped with that and with Adam.

He’s making sounds that  could be closer to speech. I thought I heard him say ‘light’ yesterday, but when I asked him to repeat it, he only grunted. His reading improves every day, so I know at least part of this is going well.

Feb 14th

Saint Valentine’s Day. A letter from Henry. It was a simple Valentine, handwritten, decorated with scraps of fabric and gilt. Inside he had copied a sonnet from Shakespeare and a short note. He ended it: _ Missing you every day, dear Victor. All my love, Henry. _

Henry, Henry, Henry. His letter is pressed here between the pages of this journal for safekeeping. I am  such a fool for him. Missing him horribly.

I cannot shake the dreadful feeling that I won’t see him again.

I will write him back, though I know my letter will arrive too late for Valentine’s.

Mar 1st

Adam has been growing restless lately. He has learned a few simple phrases, ‘hungry,’ ‘Adam,’ ‘read,’ ‘fire.’ His temper is worse, and he points to the grounds outside often, gesturing to himself, making frustrated noises. I worry he wants to leave. I sleep here most nights now to make sure he doesn’t escape and wreak havoc on the village below.

My schoolwork suffers. I am cold.

Mar 7th

Yesterday, Adam made his first attempt to leave. He shoved at the door, pounding it with his fists, and wouldn’t listen as I pleaded and tugged at him.

He isn’t  ready yet. He is too unformed, crude, unable to communicate. Anyone who saw him would be horrified at the patchwork of his skin, his enormity, the scraggling hair and mismatched eyes. And he wouldn’t understand the violence of men who come across something they don’t understand. I am afraid as much for them as I am for him. 

Working day and night. I sleep very little, worrying and working and scribbling in my project journal. I have no time to think of home.

Mar 9th

Elizabeth has written. She misses me. She wants me to come home for William’s birthday on the 15th. She worries about me.

My chest aches. I can’t leave Adam, not now. I can’t rest for fear of something terrible happening while I sleep.

Mar 11th

He’s getting worse. I can’t control him anymore. He pounds the walls and sulks and growls when I don’t let him out. The door is heavy stone, and locked from the inside. That lock gives me some comfort.

Mar 12th

It has happened.

I awoke this morning to find him gone. I searched, frantic, around the laboratory and the woods. I followed tracks that could only be his--huge, bare feet, uneven stride--leading deeper in the woods towards the mountains, but they became muddled and disappeared after a time. It started to rain, freezing, hard drops like spit from the skies, and after hours I had to give up.

I don’t understand  how he could have left without my hearing. He must have been planning it for some time. The key lay on the ground outside the laboratory door. I thought the lock was too delicate for him to navigate, but apparently I was wrong. Idiot, idiot, idiot. I have no way of knowing where he will go, what he  wants , who he will run into and how they will react. I keep working myself into a panic, then sliding into crippling despair thinking about it.

What can I do?? I will set out to look for him again first thing tomorrow morning. It is past 3 in the morning by my reckoning, and I am freezing and exhausted. I feel a cold coming on.

Losing Adam means losing years of work, research, and training. But I am more worried about the destruction he could cause. He has a terrible temper, as he’s proven, and is strong enough to--

Unthinkable. I can’t, I can’t. I have to find him.

But what then? Can I convince him to return with me? If he refuses, what then? Do I find a cottage in the woods, live there with him until he’s ready? Forever? I would have to give up school, my family, Henry.

I can’t think about Henry right now. I feel vile.

I will try to sleep. I only hope I find him before anyone else does.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspirations: Beka Cooper (Tamora Pierce) for the journal-style; Maurice (E.M. Forster) for the setting, depiction of queerness, and language; my own loneliness during my first semester of college; and girl in red's "watch you sleep."


End file.
